


Your Song

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 14:58:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Kira is too shy. Bofur is too nice. Can they find it in themselves to speak to each other?





	Your Song

The wind wailed like a wild boar over the rocky peak which hid the company of dwarves, hobbit, and wizard. The night was dark despite the full moon and twinkling stars. The shadow of the journey ahead loomed over all within the small cave though many had managed to capture sleep on such a night.

The brooding king sat outside with arms crossed across his chain-mailed chest, his iron ax leaned beside the rock beside him. His words had made the night darker as he carried the greatest burden of them all and would not let them forget it. Those within were gladdened thus that he had chosen to sit in the moonlight on watch leaving them to their slumber, though not all had closed their eyes.

Kira sat with her back against the jagged cave wall, her breath as silent as her. The faint light streaming in through the asymmetric door shone across her feet and along the dirt floor. Snores filled the silence around her and provided her with a sense of security. Often the noise of others helped her remain unnoticed as she preferred to be. She did not realize as she stared at her fingernails that another had awoken in the small cove.

Bofur watched the dwarrow from where he lay, her eyes looked sad though most did when downcast. To him it seemed that she was always sullen and had rarely the grace so far to look her in the face. Though when he had seen her for the first, back in The Shire when she had been sitting silently among the Company, well he had thought her a sight indeed.

He had barely noticed her for the rowdiness of the other dwarves. She sat beside the hobbit and stared at the table, not a word coming from her. She had only deigned to talk, unheard, in the corner with Thorin. It would seem that she had a voice only for him to hear. As he had watched her curiously from his vigil with his ale at the table between his brothers, it had appeared that she cringed as she spoke, though he knew not why.

When she had finished speaking with the king, she resumed her seat and Bofur smiled as he caught her eye. He had not intended to be forward or cheeky, he merely wanted to welcome her. There were not many dwarrows in this world and she acted as if she did not belong in even among her own. She looked away from him then and back to her empty plate and he frowned, pulling on the flaps of his hat.

Now he lay and watched her despite himself and wondered what was going on behind her eyes. For all the words she did not speak, there must have been a vast array trapped inside her head. Her eyes were not so vacant as her lips and he had seen the anxious pensiveness before when he had sat across from her. Yet, he did not know how to unlock them or if that was possible. His own brother, Bifur, never said a word himself and he had seen them already bonding in communal muteness.

He sat up and she looked towards him as he pushed himself to his feet and groaned as his back protested. He stepped over Bombur’s round stomach, rising and falling with great snores, and headed towards her. He was no longer tired as he pondered her mysteries. He sat a few feet from her, legs crossed, close enough that it was not away from her. He smiled at her and her eyes darted away, not a twitch in her cheek or nose. He repressed a sigh and pulled his hat from his belt, covering his hair with the thick hide flaps.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” He asked awkwardly, his voice low enough for her to hear but not loud enough to carry outside the cave, “’Salright, lass. I can talk enough for both of us.”

She continued to stare at her hand, the only sign she had heard him was a small gulp. She seemed to be swallowing back her words and he wondered what she was hiding. She had to be hiding something or she would look him in the eyes.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lovely voice though,” He goaded but not too much, “Y’aven’t got to let me hear, course, but I can tell. You’ve a face which inspires songs.”

He suddenly bit his lip. He had not meant to say that, though he could not help but notice her delicate beauty. He did not want to scare her off or her to think him leery. He merely wanted to be her friend but he was making it awfully difficult for himself.

“In the best way possible, lass,” He continued and scratched behind his ear under his hat, “I only mean, I…well, don’t really know what I mean. S’pose I’m just talking to talk.”

She nodded and it was more than he would have expected. He allowed himself a smile though her eyes still avoided his.

“I was going to ask you where you were from, I mean, where your family settled after Smaug, but I wouldn’t press you for an answer you didn’t want to give,” He was soothing himself as much as her. If he could make her feel safer around him, he might get a word out of her sooner or later. “I’ll tell you ‘bout me, though. Me and my brothers. You seem to like Bifur well enough, though I know Bombur can be a bit of a jolly sow.”

“Not the biscuits,” Bombur said in his sleep as if on cue and Bofur chuckled, yet still not a change from the dwarrow.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a mine, let alone worked one, but that’s what we were doin’,” He kept himself safe with his voice, “Before the king decided the Mountain weren’t lost after all.”

She gave another nod and he was assured he was not talking to the dark. The small gesture gave him the courage her silence had drained from him.

“It gets stuffy down in them tunnels,” He smiled at himself, content to have her ear if not her eyes, “I better start with the time a woods fox got down there. We were chasin’ it all over but when Bifur caught him, well…”

Bofur continued, his soft voice keeping a steady rhythm among the snores and every word came easier. He laughed though she did not and he described to her things with his hand though she would not glance up to see them. Even so, he could tell that in her mind, she was painting a picture from his words and he would have to keep going until she would give him some of her own.

* * *

Bifur had taken out one of his mechanical animals and Kira was admiring it at the long Elvish table. Below the golden lantern light of the halls of Rivendell, she looked even more luminescent than usual. As she moved the crank, the brass stag lowered its head and her eyes widened with amusement, though her mouth remained a straight line. She nodded in approval and handed the figure back to Bifur. The two mutes seemed to have their own wordless language.

Despite his best efforts, Bofur had not drawn a peep from the dwarrow. He had merely told her all his best stories and several of his funniest jokes. He was not use to such an unyielding audience and it was frustrating him. He had never been easily flustered but more and more he found himself tugging at his hat as he tried to think up a new ploy.

As they had followed the elves back to Rivendell, Bombur had come up beside him and broached the subject. The Company had not failed to notice his interest in the silent dwarrow.

“So, I see you mooning over that lass,” He began though his voice was never more than warm, “Can’t say I blame you myself. I’ve been saying for years all you needed was to find yourself a dwarrow like mine. Though that one’s a bit less animated that the wife at home.”

“Oh, quiet, Bombur,” Bofur had never been quick to anger but his frustration with the silent dwarrow made him irritable, “I’m only trying to be her friend.”

“She’s found one already, her and Bifur,” He smiled over at the pair walking ahead, “Couldn’t think of more suitable companions than them two.”

“Friends?” Bofur’s brow lowered at his own brother and he huffed, “What are you trying to say then? That they’re more than that and I should leave it at that?”

“Oi, I thought you said you was strictly platonic with this lass,” Bombur laughed and Bofur elbowed him in his pumpkin of a stomach.

“I didn’t rule it out,” Bofur growled and tugged at his hat, “I cannot lie and say I never thought of her as a dwarf thinks of a dwarrow. But be honest, brother, do you think she likes him like that?”

“No,” He laughed again, this one warmer, “He told me himself. Says she’s not his type. Too quiet.”

“You’re kidding,” Bofur accused and his brow raised, “How you ever figure what he’s trying to say I’ll never know.”

“Patience,” Bombur put a hand on Bofur’s shoulder, “And I’m not kidding. Those two are too alike, they’re not made for each other like that.”

“And me?” Bofur let his guise fall and his hopes rise despite his concerted efforts to resist them in the last weeks, “You think she could be made for me?”

“Hmm, I can’t say, I don’t know the lass very well,” Bombur dropped his hand and shrugged, “But I’ll say this. If you can draw the voice out of that little dwarrow, you may just have hope yet.”

“I’m trying,” Bofur grumbled with frustration, “Mahal knows I am.”

Bofur was frowning at his memory of the conversation and staring at Kira with intensity. He had not meant to become so infatuated with her but her mystery had gotten the best of him. Usually dwarrows giggled at his jokes and teased him with their wily winks, but she would barely look at him. He had to remind himself that she was not some dwarrow he had met in a tavern.

Kira ate with lips tightly sealed between bites and her eyes barely left the table. The elves seemed to intimidate her as she avoided looking at them the most and she shrunk further down when one of them refilled her cup. She was far from timid when they had run into the trolls and he wondered how a person could have two opposing sides to them. Perhaps it was the adrenaline which unleashed her ferocity.

Bofur chewed his lip as he thought about how to bring forth the same fiery light in her eyes he had seen as she had fought alongside the Company. The chatter of the other dwarves rose around him and Nori stumbled from his side of the bench to begin a drunken jig. There was no music to accompany his wobbly steps but his tuneless dance gave Bofur an idea. A wonderful idea.

Bofur nearly fell onto his rear as he turned to climb off the bench, receiving a curious look from Bombur who had finally found the stomach for lettuce. He grinned, more to himself, as he rushed away from the table and found the pile of packs in the next chamber where they had been bidden to leave their possessions. Tied to the back of his was his old, worn lute, which he nimbly unstrapped and carried back into the hall of drunken gabble.

As Bofur posted himself across from Nori who was still dancing with wine in hand, his brothers rose to join him. Bofur struck the first chords, briefly tuning his instrument before beginning an old tune. The twang of his strings caught the attention of the rest of the Company and even the stoic elves who watched the rowdy dwarves. He continued his fingering and cleared his throat before beginning to sing along, his voice carrying weightlessly across the hall.

 _There is an inn, a merry old inn_  
beneath and old grey hill  
And there they brew a beer so brown  
That the Man in the Moon himself came down  
one night to drink his fill

 _The ostler has a tipsy cat_  
then plays a five-stringed fiddle;  
And up and down he runs his bow,  
Now squeaking high, now purring low,  
now sawing in the middle.

 _The landlord keeps a little dog_  
that is mighty fond of jokes;  
When there’s good cheer among the guests,  
He cocks and ear at all the jests  
and laughs until her chokes.

 _They also keep a horned cow_  
as proud as any queen;  
But music turns her head like ale,  
And makes her wave her tufted tail  
and dance upon the green.

 _And O! the rows of silver dishes_  
and the store of silver spoons!  
For Sunday there’s a special pair,  
And these they polish with care  
on Saturday afternoons.

 _The Man in the Moon took another mug,_  
and rolled beneath his chair;  
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,  
Till in the sky the stars were pale,  
and dawn was in the air.

Bofur continued to sing his song and he did he looked over to the only member among the Company still seated. Kira may not have risen with the rest to kick their feet and clap their hands, but she was doing more than she ever had. She was swaying to the plucking of his lute and the lyricism of his voice and her mouth was slightly less straight. The corners of her lips were less drawn and the shadow of dimples appeared in her cheeks.

What was even better, was the gleam of passion behind her eyes. He could tell it was a song she knew well. He wondered how he had never thought to sing to her before.  _Mahal knew he could write a dozen songs for her without a second thought_. _Oh, perhaps she was not one for speaking but she seemed music in the flesh._

He finished his song and handed his lute to Ori who he knew to be even more apt at the instrument than him, not that he did not play without flaw. The orange-haired dwarf took it with a nod and set it in his arms, beginning his own tune for the mirthful dwarves. Bofur slowly neared the table and stood on the other side of it across from Kira. Her cheeks revealed a pale pink as he neared, so faint he was sure he imagined it, and her eyes flitted away.

“Oi, lass, I know you’re not much for excess but I dare say you enjoyed that little song,” He was almost out of breath as he spoke.

She nodded but failed to look at him as he wished she would and a sigh threatened to rise in his chest. Instead he carried on, there was an idea stirring in his mind but he was not sure it would work. He tapped his fingers across the stone table and leaned forward enough so he did not have to raise his voice for her to hear.

“I’ve another song,” He offered with a grin but she did not see it, “For you especially. I was hoping I could share it with you.” He looked about himself at the dancing dwarves and listened to Ori’s high voice, “Maybe somewhere else.”

He turned to look at her once more and was stunned to find her eyes on him. Silence stood between them despite the chaos of noise throughout the hall and slowly her hands went flat against the table top. She pushed herself to her feet and her chin lowered in ascent. Bofur could have leaped at the prospect of having her to himself and to have her actually look at him of her own accord.

Instead he rounded the table and offered her his arm with a wide smile. She raised her brows at the gesture and hesitantly took his elbow lightly, he could barely feel her hand but it was enough for his stomach to flutter. He led her to the door and tried not giggle in glee.

He guided her down the halls he did not know until they came upon a set of doors leading to a small round balcony. The moon shone silver light across the stone railing and he opened a door to let her through, reluctantly releasing her. She took small steps forward and he followed, standing beside her as she leaned against the railing, her eyes fixed on the stars.

While she had returned to her disposition of avoiding his gaze, the reflection of moon in her eyes was enough to content him. He had never seen anyone look so effortlessly magnificent in the night light. He could have sighed for his enrapture but he cleared his throat as to not betray himself.

“I…uh, have a song of my own,” He began so as to fend off awkwardness, “It’s your song, truly, for you have inspired it.” His chest was pounding as he spoke, realizing that he was saying more than he intended. He had not meant this night to confess to her but his singing had given him courage beyond means. “It is called  _The Lady in the Light_.”

Her cheek twitched and she looked at him from the corner of her eyes before returning them quickly to the sky. She waited for him to begin and he could see the confusion coming over her. He had overwhelmed her already and she gripped the balcony rail as she listened.

 _I know a lass of silver forged,_  
Her eyes are carved in stone.  
She comes to me in weary dreams,  
Though oft she stands on her own  
Her lips locked with grace.

 _She speaks no words_  
But she need not to do,  
As I see her in the firelight  
I can’t believe she’s true  
in a world of faded hues

 _She could not know what lays in my heart;_  
Though I could not tell her so  
I wish to see her smile at me  
And see the world aglow.

_She is the Lady in the Light  
The only star among the night…_

Bofur’s song went on, the lyrics he had not known before he sang them. For weeks he had been writing them for her without realizing it. Every thought she had inspired in him came so easily to music that his voice rose lightly in the dark. As he dared look at her, he found her eyes on his and this time she did not turn away. Rather, her eyes sparkled with subtle tears unspent and her mouth had fallen slightly open in awe.

As his song ended, silence returned as all both of them could do was watch each other. Bofur was trying to figure her out, whether or not he had frightened her, and Kira, she was looking for words she had not spoken in a long time.

“Wonderful,” He small voice came as a pleasant tone and Bofur’s breath caught as he realized she had spoken, “I weally liked it. You twuly wrote it for me?”

As she spoke, she showed apparent unease at hearing her own voice and it occurred to him only after she finished that her words were imperfect, though to him they were quite the opposite.

“I’ve written a dozen for you,” He lied, though in his soul he knew there was music waiting for her ears, “And I’ll write a dozen more.”

“You…” She swallowed as he watched her search for words, words she could speak without flaw, “Shouldn’t have. It’s too…nice.”

“You don’t have to be shy…or ashamed, or whatever it is that keeps you so quiet,” He felt bad as he realized why she was so silent when her words, to him, were the only things he had ever wanted to hear, “I think you speak finely and I’ve never heard anything so lovely.”

“Please, don’t lie to me,” She looked down embarrassed, “I know I sound like a child.”

“Lie? To you? Never,” He smiled and she brought her eyes up once more at the sincerity in his voice, “Which is why I must tell you how much I adore you. Of how long I’ve dreamed of this moment. Of hearing your voice and how it was even more splendid that any fanciful dream I’ve had.”

“You’re a tewwible liar,” Her cheeks coloured and she cringed at herself.

“No, I swear to you,” He took her hand and sunk down on one knee as she watched him with wide eyes, “If your words were the only I heard for the rest of my life, I would die happier than any who has ever lived. Kira, silent or not, I only want to be near you. To have the grace of your eyes on me and to see you beside me. How you speak, makes no difference to me. It is you and nothing else.”

Her lips clasped tightly and her eyes searched him for deceit but she could find none. Seeing in him more truth than she had ever found in another, her lips curled into an ill-used smile and she pulled on his hand until he stood once more.

“Thank you, Bofur,” She said in a quiet voice and a single tear escaped her eye, “I never thought any, especially you, could feel so about me.” She sniffed and squeezed his hand as her smile came easier, “Would you sing me another song?”

“For you, anything,” He assured her and his own grin was so broad it almost hurt, “Any requests?”

“Whatever you like,” She replied and leaned against him, the warmth of her against his arm was more pleasant than anything he had ever felt before, “You’ve voice so wonderful, I’d listen to you sing a cooking wecipe.”

She giggled at her own joke, a sound so unexpected and dazzling that it filled him with a glee he had never imagined. He had never thought she had laughed before but the warble of her mirth assured him she had. He only wished she would do so more often and because of him. It was his new mission in life. Not the Company or the Mountain, but her. He wanted to be the reason for her smiles, her laughter, and her joy.

He would start first with another song and figure out the rest later.


End file.
